


Recommended Reviews

by ionizable



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, actually yes this is complete and utter crack, i think this might be crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionizable/pseuds/ionizable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of strongly-opined Yelp reviews (which is really just an accidental series of journal entries about Shaw's non-dates with Root).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. $$$ - Spanish, Tapas Bars - New York, NY

**Author's Note:**

> um, hello. so i don't really know what this is. or how many instalments it'll have. or what i'm doing in general because there i was working on an outline for another thing and then when i sat down today this ended up coming out instead ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> also i don't remember what the character limit for actual yelp reviews are even though i always hit it, but let's just pretend shaw was like "lol screw that, i have some thoughts and feelings about this food [whispers] and maybe root. sometimes."
> 
> additionally, tw: mentions of alcohol. i'll try to be better at including these at the beginning of every chapter when applicable!

Sameen S.   
New York, NY  
0 friends  
1 review

★☆☆☆☆ (1.0 star rating)

I came here with my coworker/friend (let’s call her Eeyore) yesterday and this is by far the worst place I have ever been to. The food was alright but the service and ambience were abysmal.

Yesterday Eeyore was craving tacos and just would not shut up about tacos all day so when we passed by this place with a sidewalk sign that said tacos on it, she looked at me and said, “Sameen, I am going to have tacos tonight one way or another,” and so I had no choice but to come in here for some stupid tacos.

The premise of tapas bars seems to be that people are supposed to _share_ the dishes. These dishes also seem to only come in kid-sized portions. Both of these things are stupid and did not serve to make me any happier about being forced into this place against my will.

The tuna tacos that Eeyore ordered for us were only okay. We also got shrimp ceviche, tilapia quesadillas, and an order of chicken chimichangas. Seafood is not real meat, nor is chicken, so I cannot provide a substantial review of the quality of the food.

What I can say is that Mexican food seems to come with a lot of unnecessary frills and if it wasn’t for the jalapenos I ordered on the side, I don’t think I would have eaten very much at all. Not that I did, because the portion sizes were tiny.

But let me start at the beginning of my visit here. This place was so packed (at 4:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, don’t these people have normal jobs?) that we ended up being seated at the bar. This is where it all started to go wrong.

First off, the bar stools were ridiculous. If someone ends up practically doing a hop, skip, and jump just to get onto the damn thing, _the bar stools are too high_. If someone ends up getting an unsolicited and suspiciously placed “helping hand” from their annoying friend just to climb onto the damn thing, _the bar stools are way too damn high._

Not only do high bar stools make for an ungraceful mount, but it also slows down the dismount. People should always be able to just slide off the stool instead of needing to plummet down from a treacherous height. For safety reasons. Like if the person sitting next to you leans too close into your personal space.

Anyway, it was almost 5 o’clock, so I didn’t hesitate to order some drinks as soon as I managed to get seated on the dumb chair. They had a beyond excellent selection of tequila behind the bar, so I may have gotten my hopes up a little bit at first. They were all instantly dashed once I was told by the very annoying bartender that I could not just buy a whole bottle of top shelf tequila, and that they only came in flights.

So I ended up sampling their entire selection of tequila (and most of them were fantastic, but it’s not like the bar was responsible for making the tequila, so I’m not going to give them any credit for that). The problem with this was that I needed to flag down their useless bartender over and over again. Which was difficult because more often than not, she was busy talking to Eeyore as if she didn’t have a job to do.

I call my friend Eeyore because she is an actual ass. More often than not I am referring to her personality (she is very touchy-feely and makes a lot of overbearing innuendo), but sometimes I am also referring to her physical attributes. For some reason a lot of people seem to enjoy when she flirts with them (and she flirts with most people). The probably overpaid bartender is no exception, and quickly became yet another confounded victim of Eeyore’s lack of subtlety.

Every time I wanted to order another drink, I was forced to have to draw Eeyore’s attention in order to stop their conversation so the bartender could realize that the world did not revolve around Eeyore’s light brown eyes. Then I would have to get her to repeat my order to the bartender so that I didn’t have to end up waiting 10 minutes for one flight. The bartender always seemed incapable of hearing Eeyore unless they both leaned in very close to one another over the bartop, and the sight of this much incompetence would almost make me feel like I needed to upchuck the tiny amount of food I’d just eaten.

Further proof that Eeyore deserves her nickname: I was required to steadily take progressively more drastic action every time I needed to get her attention. I was less reluctant to do so as the amount of tequila I consumed increased, but the beginning instances of needing to lean over to whisper into Eeyore’s ear so I could tell her what I wanted were painful.

If you, like me, just want to be able to have a steady supply of alcohol on hand as you watch the bartender shamelessly hitting on the person you came in with, I would recommend doing what I did and ordering the Desperado beer. It's not liquor, but at least it can occasionally block out nauseating sights every time you take a swig.

Eventually the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol required that I somehow find my way off the precipice that they called a bar stool, in order to go to the washroom. As I was coming back, I got mistaken for a server by some moronic college students. If I twisted an arm behind a back it was only because the owner of said parts grabbed my arm when I shouldered past and ignored him.

This prompted the bartender to stop talking to Eeyore (for probably the first time since we had arrived) and come around to tower over me, as if she could use her height to make me let go of the punk. You would think she would have tried to use that height to her advantage to be able to quickly get to the top shelf tequila earlier, but instead she tried to use it here.

Service rapidly picked up after this incident, which I think is an indicator that being blunt will get you results. By the time I let go of the college boy’s head, our bill was waiting and ready for us to pay. However, it was once again impossible to communicate with the bartender without Eeyore translating and sugar-coating my perfectly understandable (if admittedly not worded in a family friendly fashion) rationale.

Overall this place is the worst and I would not return even if I could.

Also if anyone is inclined to want to call an inept bartender giant at 4 a.m. everyday just for fun, I have her number on a napkin that I am willing to give away for free. Send me a message.


	2. $$$$ - Steakhouses - New York, NY

Sameen S.   
New York, NY  
0 friends  
2 reviews

★★★☆☆ (3.0 star rating)

This is not the steakhouse to go to if you’re looking for a quiet place where nobody will bother you.

This is also not the steakhouse to go to if you’d like to dine at an establishment where the staff will seat you in the farthest back corner without asking any nosy questions.

I came here alone to celebrate a successful day at work, intending to expense at least three entrées on my boss’s credit card. But as soon as I walked in and the hostess smiled at me, I immediately got a bad feeling about this place, especially after she asked if I really wouldn’t prefer a seat at the bar.

In my experience, the bar is where neither adequate service nor satisfactory food are anywhere to be found.

I feel I was very patient with both the hostess and the idiot who actually tried to take my coat off for me while I was still wearing it, but then she started to look like she was going to cry and the idiot fell down and got in my way. So eventually I just sat myself at the booth in the corner, which didn’t even have a proper view of everyone’s comings and goings (more on this later).

Then when I was seated, the first server tried to talk to me about where each cut came from and what kind of taste and texture I could expect from the various types of steaks. I had already done my research on this place, and so I resented that he assumed that I wouldn’t have already confirmed that they only used the best suppliers.

Did he think I wasn’t serious about my steaks? I take my steaks very seriously. That was his first strike.

The second server was very good. He didn’t talk much at all, nor did he ask me any silly questions.

He also didn’t put up a fuss when I told him to replace the Caesar salad with more bacon smoked cheese for the steak topper, so that was nice. I also told him that I would be holding onto the menu and possibly ordering more if the first one came out well, and he didn’t even try to give me a fake smile. I liked him, he was authentic.

Because of how wonderfully efficient he was, the wait wasn’t long at all for my medium rare Wagyu steak. The meat was fatty and flavourful, but best of all, it was two inches thick. If I hadn’t just come from a very long assignment where I only got to eat once in an eight-hour period, it might have even filled me up.

My favourite part about this steak (and the two other steaks I had here) was that it was so tender that I didn’t need to use both a fork and knife, but it also didn’t fall apart when I speared it with my knife in order to eat it.

For steak toppers, in addition to extra bacon smoked cheese, I also got a green chimichurri sauce and Ponzu sauce. There’s a steak joint in St. Louis with a chimichurri sauce that brings an already delicious steak to taste better than most orgasms feel. Compared to that, this chimichurri sauce tasted like that feeling you get when you wake up next to someone you can’t tell if you hate or not.

Which brings me to the worst part about this steakhouse. I think they have cameras installed everywhere, showing just about anyone who has access where people are seated. The staff is also far too trusting, probably lulled into a false sense of security by the stupid cameras, and will let just about anyone waltz in and find you.

Because the visibility of my booth was partially blocked from the side, I was somewhat surprised when an annoying sometimes-coworker and sometimes-friend of mine slid into the booth next to me.

I don’t like surprises.

When the first server came back as I was ready to order my next two entrées (a New York strip that looked promising but was fairly average, and an excellent prime rib that came with no vegetables on the side), he earned his second strike because my friend managed to convince him that she could share the entrées with me.

I don’t like sharing food.

The first server earned his third and last strike when he listened to my friend instead of me _again_ when she said we could share utensils too. Then she ended up cutting my steak into “normal” bite-sized pieces and taking advantage of the near-catatonic state of bliss I was in with each bite, by hogging the utensils and alternating between feeding me and feeding herself.

I don’t like sharing utensils.

Or being fed. Or having my food cut up for me. If the steaks here weren’t so damn delectable and distracting, none of this would have happened.

To make matters worse, everything was probably recorded on the security cameras. If the footage ever appears anywhere, I will hold this establishment and the first server, a 5'9" brown-haired Caucasian man with a medium build and a nametag that reads Matt, personally liable. 

Because the staff at this establishment had allowed my friend to barge in on what I had originally hoped would be a pleasant evening alone in the company of some wonderful steaks, I had to order a fairly large number of drinks to cope with the annoyance.

When my first few whiskey neats arrived (even though service was reasonably fast, I didn’t want to have to chance waiting between drinks), the wonderful second server didn’t assume one of them was for my friend. Instead, he would always place them all in front of me. That was very appreciated, even if my friend ended up stealing a few sips anyway each time she managed to distract me with another bite of food.

I don’t remember how many drinks I had to end up ordering, because I ended up letting my friend pay the bill, but I think they were satisfactorily strong and not watered down. She also managed to get the hostess to hail us a cab, but only one. The hostess was probably too busy still being on the verge of tears, and so my friend and I both had to get into the same cab.

In summary, this steakhouse served excellent food but it was also 100% responsible for all the bad decisions made later that night. Everything now tastes like regret.


	3. $$ - Desserts, Ice Cream & Frozen Yogurt - New York, NY

Root   
New York, NY  
157 friends  
86 reviews

★★★★★ (5.0 star rating)

Hello, friends! It’s been quite a while since my last review – I’ve been out of the country on business, but I’m back for a little while, and armed with some great new places for you to try. For today’s addition to the successful-date-ideas series, I’ve got the cutest little candy store everyone should try to make the trek out to!

Take a moment to think about that special friend in your life. Maybe she’s someone you’re looking to treat. Maybe she’s already usually prone to a just-dimmer-than-sunny disposition. Maybe you, like me, had no choice but to tell some frenemies where your special little friend was located, and now you’re looking to appease her.

Well, if your friend is anything like mine, and deeply appreciates a good, sweet distraction, all you need to do is bring her here and it’ll be like you had never even put her through a (social) life-threatening situation!

The selection here is _amazing_. From your run-of-the-mill cupcakes and sweets, to deluxe macaroons and truffles and cookie cream sandwiches, walking into this place and taking a look at the filled-to-the-brim glass display cases is guaranteed to make your jaw drop and mouth salivate. (Always a good start to a successfully intimate dessert, am I right?)

TIP: Make sure you take a look through the photos of this place beforehand, so you don’t embarrass yourself when you bring your friend here. Knowledge is power, and so is preparedness – you won’t be able to fully enjoy every second of the look of hunger on your companion’s face if you’re also gawking at everything in here!

Your friend might say, “I don’t _want_ candy, Root, I’m not a _five_ -year-old.” But I’m sure you know enough about your friend to be able to convince her otherwise! For me, it was the promise of any popsicle she desired and a very gentle guiding hand on the small of her back to get her through the delightfully pink door.

Once you manage to wrangle your friend into the store, I highly suggest you make a beeline straight for the back, where all the truly impressive sweets are sold. Don’t let her get sidetracked by something as _safe_ and _boring_ as popsicles. Convince her to live life on the edge. Take a risk. Be adventurous!

And so we ordered a small ice cream twist in a sugar cone with a strawberry glaze. All of their ice cream is handmade (admirable, given how busy this store can get during the sunniest parts of the day – so a better time to visit is usually as an after-dinner, end-of-the-night stop… for a few reasons besides just the crowd, but I’ll get to that, hehe!).

Unfortunately for my friend, who is rather on the petite side, a small ice cream cone at this establishment is _generously_ large. So large, in fact, that this “small” ice cream cone turned out to be bigger than my friend’s head! This is a handy topic of discussion if you’re looking for ways to try to connect with your companion.

TIP: Any conversation point is a good conversation point! In fact, getting a little worked up can sometimes be the best precursor to _other_ heated activities. “What the hell is this? This is _not_ a small!” “Isn’t it? It’s the same size as you, so…”

Because the portions here are so large, don’t shy away from suggesting that you and your special friend can just share the same dessert. For those of you who are still at a rather tentative point in your interactions with your special friend, any of the ice cream cupcakes or home-made fudge cakes are easy enough to share with a spoon.

But, if you really want to step things up to the next level, sharing an ice cream cone can be a very deliberate, intimate activity. I’ll let you take a minute to imagine standing close, passing the cone back and forth, fingers brushing occasionally… not to mention the fun that can be had in embarrassing your companion with exaggerated licks and maintained eye contact.

TIP: Although there is seating inside, please remember this is a family-friendly establishment. For secluded seating, I recommend venturing outside and taking a brief walk down the cobblestone road, past the wooded area, to the very quiet second floor deck of the old mill, where you can find a quaint bench that overlooks the pond. Especially beautiful during sunset, although your attention may be… divided.

My only warning is that the bottom of the cone has a slight hole in it, so as the ice cream melts, it will begin to drip through, and onto the pants of you and/or your special friend. You could impress her with your foresight by preemptively grabbing a few napkins on your way out, _or_ you could go with the flow (as it were) and get a little creative in getting it off.

Trust me when I say, this place is going to satisfy any and all of your cravings. Fully recommended as the last stop before you and your companion of choice head home! You are all very welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so who else cried during all of the rudeness that was 4.18 and wondered why they fell in love with characters with so much pain.


	4. $ - Grocery - New York, NY

Sameen S.   
New York, NY  
0 friends  
3 reviews

★★☆☆☆ (2.0 star rating)

WHO COMES HERE WILLINGLY???

I am deeply concerned for the people of Morningside Heights. I sincerely hope you all have somewhere better to shop for your groceries than _here_.

Let me list all the reasons you could (and should) find somewhere else, anywhere else, for your weekly (or biweekly, or multiple-times-a-week) grocery shopping:

**1\. It is the size of a shoebox.**

If you must shop here, do I suggest coming here with anyone else? No, I do not.

 _Especially_ if the person you come here with will think it’s funny to pretend she needs something from the same aisle you’re in, and refuses to move out of the way until you find yourself bending into a pretzel so you don’t end up squashing up far too close next to her as you pass by.

If you come here with anyone else, will there be a lot of indecent contact in the condiments aisle? Probably.

Will you find yourself constantly staring up at the top shelves (because everything is on the shelves, because there’s no space to put them at decently reachable levels)? Yes.

Will you get pressed up into the cans of tuna as your friend reaches over you to try to reach for the higher shelves? Likely.

Will assorted items and goods fall down onto you as your friend’s hand slips? And then will you be subject to a lot of apologetic coos and futile petting of the injured areas? And _then_ , will you find yourself spending a lot of time cooling off in the frozen foods section afterwards?

Yes. (Because that’s also the only part of the store where you can get any personal space to yourself.)

This is supposed to be a grocery store, not a limbo maze of flexibility. Human Tetris, is how someone else described it… Grocery shopping is not a _game_.

**2\. The people here are the worst.**

I agreed to walk into this place because there aren’t any street vendors trying to accost you from the street, pointing at fruits and trying to lure you into the store. There’s that, at least.

I thought it would be a quiet, respectable sort of store, where people minded their own business and nobody tried to “help” you decide anything.

I was so wrong.

I was brought here by someone else. She probably planned it all. For what reason, I don’t know. She seems to enjoy my misery.

She said, “I’m running low on my coffee stock, mind if we stop in here for a second? And, oh, that’s right, you haven’t done your groceries yet, have you?” (Now that I’m thinking about it, that should have set alarm bells ringing.)

Then, as soon as the doors closed behind me, she flitted away and left me on my own. Normally a good thing, but in a place like this, you might not _want_ to be alone. Because people who are left to their own devices in here get set upon by little old ladies with too many opinions and really large smiles.

All I wanted was a melon. Cantaloupe, honeydew, watermelon, I hadn’t decided yet. But all I wanted was one.

No sooner had I _looked_ in the direction of the melons, than the first little old biddy (of many) came up to me and started trying to teach me how to tell if a melon was ripe or not by knocking on it. She followed me around until I went back to the melons and spent five minutes tapping on all of them just to get her to stop following me around the entire (tiny) store.

I just took the one she handed to me at the end. It turned out to be pretty ripe but that was probably just luck, because all the melons sounded exactly the same to me when I was hitting them.

And then after _that_ , another woman came into the aisle my friend and I were in and started holding out different suggestions for coffee brands out at me for no reason. I wasn’t even the one who wanted any coffee, it was just my annoying friend who’d dragged me into this place for some to begin with.

This second lady looked _exactly_ the same as the one who’d been manhandling the melons, but apparently one toothless little grandmother is not the same as another, because she didn’t look amused at all when I started knocking on the coffee tins to see which one sounded the most full. (Although, she probably would have thought the first melon lady was bonkers, too.)

And finally, as we were cashing out, it felt like everyone was inspecting everything in my basket. What I buy is none of anyone’s business. Especially not small old busybodies who make _tsk_ ing noises when they take a look at how many jugs of milk I buy, because _I’m_ not going to get osteoporosis when I get to their age.

In conclusion, if you had the choice between walking three extra blocks to the next nearest grocery store, starving to death, or coming here regularly, I would probably suggest you do all those in that exact order.

(However, this store carries real maple syrup from Quebec, so that’s surprisingly nice. It gets one extra star for that. None of that fake processed crap if you want to have a good pancake experience for breakfast. Or for lunch, or dinner, or midday snack, really. There’s never a bad time for pancakes, especially if they’ve got real maple syrup all over ’em.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agh! i've been terrible about replying lately, but i'm going to try to get back to everyone who's been lovely enough to leave a comment. also i'm still trying to get over this lil writer's block hump >:(


	5. $$ - Pet Groomers - New York, NY

Root   
New York, NY  
158 friends  
89 reviews

★★★★★ (5.0 star rating)

Hello, friends.  Today I would like to tell you all about a little grooming salon on the edge of the Village.  Sadly, not part of my successful-date-ideas series, but still a rather amusing story I think some of you might appreciate.

For anyone else who's got a grumpy dog owner in their lives, this just may be the perfect salon for you. My oft-featured friend, who some of you may remember has been referred to as LF (or little firecracker) in some of my previous reviews, swears by this place _with a smile_.

As a quick reminder, LF tends to try her best to pretend she doesn't know how to smile around me while in public, so this recommendation was essentially a ringing endorsement from LF. She also happens to be a woman with _very_ good taste (if I do say so myself).

Let me begin this story with a quick recap of the way our interesting little dog-sharing situation works. One of my friend’s coworkers (we can call him Lurch) adopted our charming Dutch-speaking pup (Bear) a few years ago.

Now, my LF isn't the biggest fan of humans most days, but once she met Bear, she was suckered right into the job. LF and Lurch often enjoy arguing over who’s Bear’s favourite, but at the end of the day, their boss is the one who ends up footing all the bills.

So one day I went to LF’s boss and told him I'd like to borrow Bear for a little aimless stroll I wanted to take around the New York Institute of Technology. It's dangerous out there for a single, defenseless woman in New York City! You never know what kind of people out there might just point guns at you for no reason at all, or when a large dog might come in handy.

Bear is a lovely, sweet dog, but other people (especially people who might hurt the ones he cares about) don't know that. They often just see a loud ball of ferocity hurtling towards them. He's not unlike his part-time owner, in that way.

Said part-time owner showed up, about twenty-eight blocks from her apartment, as soon as I was finished with the very peaceful, relaxing, uneventful walk that I had needed Bear for. When I asked what she was doing in that part of town, she just shrugged and said she'd been looking for the dog.

I had been ready to go home and rest up (it had been somewhat of a tiring walk), but LF managed to convince me that Bear was due for a grooming. He has a cute short cut that never seems to require much maintenance, although it all looks the same to me.

Anyway, LF insisted that I wouldn't be able to return him to her boss without taking him to a salon first thing the next morning. Now, obviously she wanted to spend more time with the dog, and got me in the bargain as well.

I certainly wasn't complaining, and surprisingly, neither was she. We both always quite enjoy our quality girl talk time together, although her enjoyment does usually tend to come with a side of grumpiness.

So the next day, we had to take Bear to the salon. Naturally I know nothing about pet grooming salons, and so I deferred to my companion’s choice of venue.

Upon arrival, I could tell right away why she has a soft spot for this place. It's clear that the people who manage this salon really appreciate getting to know every new furry little friend, but are then forced to put up with their humans in exchange. (Not unlike LF’s own attitude towards her job, too.)

Bear was greeted by the groomer with baby talk that rivalled LF’s (and believe me, the woman surprisingly _knows_ how to talk cute), and we, on the other hand, were greeted with one single eyebrow raise, and a simple: “Appointment?”

For some reason they weren't able to find our appointment at first, but I took a little peek at their booking system while LF somehow managed to let Bear run right into the salon. It never hurts to double check!

Sure enough, I managed to find our appointment in there. They're always booked up weeks in advance, so it was really lucky that I managed to find our time slot.

The next reason why LF enjoys this place was probably the large wall of hanging combs and blades right behind the reception desk.

So many blades, of varying shapes and sizes.

So many sharp toothed fine combs that looked like they could slide painfully under fingernails if one was unlucky.

So many other tools that looked like they could stab a person if one wasn't careful.

And one tool, in the very centre, on a small ledge of its own, labelled: “The Furminator.”

A terminator, for fur.

I’m not sure what this tool does, exactly, but I am quite sure that there was no mistaking the look of glee on LF’s face every time she looked at it.

(An aside: her favourite movies are the Terminator and the Jason Bourne series. Many a night has been spent watching LF sigh wistfully and say, “One day that'll be me,” during movie marathons.)

Next to the wall of tools, there was a wall of pictures, presumably of the other dogs this salon sees regularly. There were no froufrou haircuts in sight, no puffy moustaches to be seen. No, the only style this salon does is a simple, practical cut (or “pragmatic,” as my companion likes to say).

Bear was then led away to the back, with a gruff note from the groomer that we could return to pick him up after lunch.

And LF, the same LF who had been a small, suspicious stickler inspecting everything to make sure it met safety regulations when she accompanied me to pick up some rather mundane travel equipment I had been in need of once, just nodded and turned and left the salon.

The same LF who had travelled with me all the way to Connecticut another time I had borrowed Bear, just to make certain he wouldn't get carsick.

This same LF just stood outside and silently glared at me as if to say, “Well? Hurry up.”

If that _isn't_ a ringing endorsement for the safety of your pet here, then I don't know what is.

In fact, LF wasn't in any particular rush to return to pick Bear up from this grooming salon. We returned, just a little before closing time, and Bear came out looking largely the same to me, hair-wise, but still happy as ever.

And maybe dogs do mimic their (part-time) owners, because LF seemed almost happy too on our way back to return him to her boss. (Not that this showed on her face, per se. But she only threatened me once, so all in all, I'd say she was probably having a pretty good time.)

All that to say, I had a great experience with this salon!!

Stay tuned for my next perfect date series review. I've got a few places up my sleeve that are sure to be a hit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent approximately two hours reading pet groomer blogs and used precisely zero of anything i read anywhere in this chapter. also this was all CaptainRivaini's fault from ages ago when grooming parlours first came up as a suggestion.


End file.
